The Magic of Ordinary Days
by I Heart Pudding
Summary: This is an ongoing story set four years after the Battle of Hogwarts. It's Ron and Hermione centric but with big old dollops of Harry, Ginny, George, and half the Gryffindors... (the entertaining ones anyway). Heavy on Romione and the bromance. Features shifting points of view.
1. At The Burrow

_Author's Note_:

Okay. So I've always been bugged by the scene in the tent in the DH1 film where it looks for a second like Harry's going to make a move on Hermione. Those nauseating few seconds when he removes the locket from her neck are highly suggestive. I still throw up in my mouth a little bit when I think about it.

I know this scene isn't book canon, but it still bothers me. A lot. Because Harry making a move on Hermione would be an effective betrayal of both of his best friends, and Ginny.

Thought it might be fun to explore what the fallout might have been had that moment actually occurred and been revealed to Ron sometime later.

In Chapter 6, the story morphs into an extended Ron/Hermione post-war fic that's also heavy on the bromance.

NOTE: This story is book canon compliant in every aspect other than the initial premise (which is movie canon compliant).

* * *

Chapter 1: At The Burrow

Ginny stared at the glossy image in the Muggle magazine trying to work out just what it was sewn into the hem of the long white gown in the picture. Muggle frocks could be so bloody _complicated_, and these wedding frocks were turning out to be the worst. She frowned, lowering her head and squinting as she studied the sparkly bits at the hemline a little more closely.

It couldn't be rhinestones sewn in there, could it? Ginny moved her face so close to the picture the tip of her nose nearly grazed the page. _Couldn't be_. The magazine seemed way too posh for rhinestones.

It was Hermione's Mum's magazine, and she was posh. Sort of posh anyway. Unpretentious, like Hermione, but posh.

Ginny blew out a long sigh and flipped mindlessly through the remaining pages, fighting a rising tide of irritation. Fashion was hardly her thing. She'd been prepared to take a stab at it for Harry's sake, but felt a bit overwhelmed by all the choices presented in the gleaming pages of the bridal magazine.

_Sod it all_, she thought laying the magazine aside. _I'll let Mum make my dress._

A sudden pop rang out in the Burrow's cozy sitting room, and Ginny looked up in surprise to see her brother standing before her in a vest and pajama bottoms, his face flushed, his chest heaving.

"Bloody hell, Ron, what's with you?" Ginny demanded, noting her brother's obvious agitation.

And _why _was he apparating about at all hours in his jammies and bare feet, she wondered. Hermione would murder him.

"Is he here?" Ron demanded, a barely contained anger snapping behind his eyes.

"Who?"

"Your _prat_ fiancé, that's who."

Ginny stared at her brother, her confusion mounting by the second. "Ron, what-"

"IS HE HERE?" Ron bellowed.

"No!" she exclaimed. "And do you mind telling me-"

Before Ginny could finish the question, Ron had disapparated with a sharp snap, leaving his younger sister fuming in his wake. A faint pop sounded through an open window, and the front door swung open wide to reveal a wild-eyed Hermione.

"Is Ron here?" she asked frantically.

Ginny stared at her sister-in-law, wondering what in the blazes could be going on. Hermione was barefoot and out of breath-as Ron had been-and clad only in Ron's long Quidditch jumper over pajama bottoms.

"He just left," Ginny finally managed to say. "Hermione, what-"

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No. But a bunch of them were going to the pub tonight."

"Which pub?"

"Dunno. Hermione-"

With a soft pop, Hermione disapparated, leaving a flustered Ginny in mid sentence.

Ginny heard the tap shut off in the kitchen, and Molly emerged wiping her hands on a dish towel, concern etched in her face.

"Ginny, what in the world was all that commotion about?"

"No idea, Mum," Ginny replied rising from the sofa and grabbing her wand from a nearby table. "If Harry shows up, keep him here, would you? I'm looking for him."

_Me and the rest of the family_, she thought wryly.

"Ginny, what-"

"Just keep him here, Mum!"

"Ginny!" the older woman snapped, displeased with her daughter's tone. But the room was suddenly empty and reverberating with the sound of Ginny's disapparation.


	2. Blood and Alcohol

Chapter 2: Blood and Alcohol

Harry's luck had been rotten all night, and the latest round of cards had done nothing to improve his situation. Folding his hand quickly, he glanced around the crowded pub and attempted to stifle a massive yawn.

"Get a load of these, tosspots!" Seamus slurred triumphantly, laying four jacks face up on the table and reaching forward to claim the pile of galleons a foot in front of him.

"Again, Seamus?" Neville groaned, surveying the mountain of cash Seamus had gone face down into while laughing maniacally. "He's killing us, Harry."

"No argument there, mate," Harry replied, watching Seamus with amusement, then flipping open his wallet to display its barren contents to Neville.

A boys night out had seemed a brilliant idea at the time, but that had been thirty galleons ago. Banned from the Burrow for the evening-Ginny and her mum were discussing wedding dresses-Harry had chosen the pub over an evening on his own or watching his two best mates hang on each other at their place.

"Good thing Ginny doesn't love you for your money, mate," Neville said amiably, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"It's for your massive knob, eh, Potter?"

Seamus was half pissed already and had emerged from the pile of galleons to smirk at Harry and take a long pull from his bottle of beer. Neville grinned broadly at his comment while Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Well, drop trou, mate, and let's take a look," Seamus suggested blearily.

A faint pop sounded in the dimly lit pub, and Harry jerked his head in the direction of the noise, grateful for the distraction. He could just make out the back of a familiar head at the other end of the cramped but crowded space.

"Ron!" Harry yelled across the room, standing up to wave his friend over. "I thought you were tucked up with the wife tonight," he shouted, as Ron turned in his direction.

"When isn't he tucked up with the wife?" Seamus snickered into his beer.

"At least he's got a girl," Neville said, extricating the half-empty bottle from Seamus's hand. "I'd say that's enough for you, mate."

"Ron just got back from a mission. That's why they're joined at the hip tonight," Harry said by way of explanation as he sat down. _Joined at the hip or elsewhere_, he snickered inwardly.

"You!" Ron bellowed red-faced as he spotted Harry and began to make his way through the throng towards their table.

"What's with him?" Neville asked, prompting a shrug from Harry. And what was the prat doing out at a pub at half ten in his pajamas, Harry wondered.

Spotting the three of them, Ron pushed his way forcefully across the room leaving a string of cranky-looking manhandled patrons in his wake. Then suddenly he was before them and hauling a startled-looking Harry forcefully from his chair.

"Ron, what-" Harry had begun when Ron's first connected solidly with the left side of his face and his glasses went flying. The next thing Harry knew he was on the floor, staring groggily at the dust bunnies under the table.

A second later he was being hauled to his feet again when another pop rang out, followed by the sound of Hermione yelling.

"Ron, STOP!" she demanded. "That's enough!"

Harry felt Ron's grip on him slacken, and he managed to wriggle away, backing up several feet.

"Ron! Cool it!" It was Dean's voice Harry could detect now through the pea-soup fog inside his head. Dean had emerged from the loo and was restraining Ron from behind as Hermione stood immediately before him, both her palms flat on Ron's heaving chest.

Harry reached down and groped around on the floor a bit until coming upon his glasses. He straightened up and pulled them on, noting with relief that both the lenses were unbroken.

Ron had remained stationary but was continuing to glower at him, his blue eyes appearing nearly black with anger. He shook off Dean's grip suddenly and pointed a menacing finger at Harry.

"If you _ever_ try anything with Hermione, or even _think_ about stepping out on Ginny, it's the end of us. _Understand_?!" Ron's words were slow and deliberate, his eyes boring into Harry's as he spoke.

Comprehension dawned, and Harry nodded.

"Ron, your hand!" Hermione cried out suddenly, lifting his battered right hand with care.

"It's fine," Ron said, still staring at Harry.

Hermione dragged her gaze from Ron's bruised and bleeding knuckles and looked with concern at Harry's face. "You okay, Harry?" she asked.

"I'll live," Harry said flatly, using the edge of his sleeve to staunch the flow of blood now running down his left cheek.

"Do you need to go to St Mungo's?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Blimey, Granger!" Seamus interjected. "It's a fist fight, not the bleedin' war!"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry replied, relieved to see that Ron was now staring daggers at Seamus.

Ron whipped his head back around suddenly so he was facing Harry again. "And you're telling Ginny, Harry," he said in a sudden non-sequiter. "You're telling Ginny, or I will."

"Okay," Harry said simply, nodding.

Satisfied, Ron slipped his arm around Hermione's waist and used his good hand to take hers.

"You'll look after Harry, then, Neville?" Hermione asked. Neville was standing silently a few feet away, gaping at them.

"'Course," he managed to say, still staring.

"I'm not six years old, Hermione," Harry grumbled. He wasn't the one who went around _slugging people in pubs _after all.

"_Hey_!" Ron snapped at him, his eyes blazing. "Easy."

The murderous look on Ron's face made Harry instantly regret his words. But with Hermione wrapped around him and Dean nearby, it seemed unlikely Ron would hit him again.

"You've got until Monday to tell Ginny," Ron said flatly. "Got it?"

Harry nodded, and Ron turned to Hermione saying wearily, "Let's go home." An instant later, they were gone.

Seamus and Dean rushed forward, forcing Harry's hand away from his face in an attempt to get a good look at the damage. "You're going to have a hell of a shiner there, Harry," Dean noted with half a chuckle as he inspected him.

Standing a few feet away, Neville was staring at Harry, looking puzzled.

"What was that all about?" he said finally, his astonishment clear.

"Ancient history, I think," Harry said with a sigh, bringing his hand up carefully to his bloodied face.


	3. The Muggle Way

Chapter 3: The Muggle Way

The flat was small but cozy and exuded charm, a ground-floor studio they'd chanced upon when walking in a Muggle neighborhood not far from the Ministry. It was barely more than a room in size, just a large airy space, small adjacent kitchen, and an oversized bathroom with an old-fashioned tub. A slanted roof and coated glass allowed for soft light in the morning, and a small patio and garden adjacent to the main room made a lovely spot for reading and their tea. Built-in bookshelves lined three of the four walls, framing the oversized bed they'd stumbled upon in an antiquities shop in Diagon Alley.

Weary from the night's adventures, Ron reckoned he couldn't get into that big bed fast enough, and _not_ for the reason he was usually eager for bedtime after three days away. His right hand was throbbing steadily with pain, and all he wanted to do suddenly was sleep.

Lowering himself unsteadily into a chair, he watched as Hermione rifled systematically through kitchen drawers in search of her small black medical kit.

"Got it!" she announced triumphantly, turning to take a seat next to him at their small kitchen table. Unzipping the nylon bag, she fished out a handful of items, then gently took Ron's hand.

_Always prepared_, Ron thought as he watched her, smiling to himself despite the pain.

She'd taken to tending the scrapes and bruises he accumulated on his auror missions "the way Mum used to," as she put it, the Muggle way. She seemed to enjoy the intimacy of it, and he certainly wasn't complaining.

She'd sit close to him, swabbing his skin tenderly with white fluffy balls soaked in Muggle potion while he studied the planes of her face, a face he was certain he now knew better than his own. (It was certainly better to look at than his own.) Then she'd squeeze a bit of goo onto him from a small tube and cover the whole mess up with plastic strips she fished from a box labeled 'Band-Aid.'

Ron remembered how Harry had smiled when he'd first turned up at their office with a collection of those strips adorning his hands and face.

"Hermione did this," he'd said, running his finger absently across one of the strips as Ron nodded.

"I liked the ones with Spider-Man. Dudley had those."

"Spider-WHAT?"

"Never mind," Harry had said, rolling his eyes.

Later, Hermione had pulled the strips off of him to reveal smooth skin where the wounds had been. "See," she'd said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Muggles do magic, too."

"They do if they made you."

That had got him kissed.. twice.. _hard_.

Her chair pulled up close to his now, Hermione was tending to his bloodied knuckles as Ron looked on contentedly. She hadn't said much about the dust-up at the pub, he noted. She hadn't said much of anything at all. After a long moment of watching her, Ron spoke.

"You're not going to yell at me for hitting Harry?"

Hermione gave a small shrug and continued to work on his hand. "Thought about hitting him myself that night in the tent when he told you to go."

Ron broke into a wide smile.

"Laying him out flat like you did Draco, eh?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling, too."I never laid Draco out flat."

"You did in my version." Ron tapped the side of his head at his temple. "Here."

"Thought about it, have you?"

"Too much."

They grinned at each other as Hermione discarded the fluffy white balls she'd been using and reached for the little tube of goo. Ron continued to watch her, a second question surfacing in his mind.

"Hermione?"

"Um-hm." She was fiddling with the tube.

Ron paused briefly, before deciding to ask the question.

"Am I overreacting?"

Hermione looked up immediately, her eyes locking on his. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

"Well, I'm not sure what hitting him accomplished exactly."

Ron outright grinned at her, pleased by her admonishment somehow. "I knew you weren't going to give me a pass on that."

"Well, I tried," she teased, as both of them laughed.

Hermione removed the cap from the little tube and raised it to his knuckles as she continued speaking. "You know, Ron, it _was_ four years ago. Technically, we weren't together yet."

"But we wanted to be," Ron said quietly. "Harry knew that."

Hermione sighed. "That's true," she said sadly, squeezing the goo onto him.

"And he knew how he felt about Ginny."

"True, also," she said, looking solemn and reaching for the plastic strips.

Ron sighed and lowered his head to the table. "I thought the bloke was trustworthy," he mumbled.

"He is trustworthy, Ron."

Ron's head shot up in an instant. "Well, how do you reckon that, Hermione?! I'm gone, what, a day you said, and already the bloke is making a move on you?"

Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't like that."

"What was it like then?"

She paused, considering. "I was miserable. He was miserable. Both of us, over you."

"So, what? Let's have a shag and feel better?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, he didn't even try to kiss me. He just-" she paused, remembering. "He took the locket off me, which was weird. And then.. Then it really looked for a moment like he was going to. Try to kiss me."

Ron groaned loudly lowering his head back down to the table.

"I know," Hermione said smiling and running a sympathetic hand along the back of his head.

"Then I really would have had to hit him," she added.

Ron chuckled into the table. He raised his head to look at her, and they smiled at each other.

"And you know, Ron," Hermione continued, "he'd never acted that way before, and he hasn't since which counts for a lot I think. He loves your sister. You know that."

"I thought I did," he said mournfully.

Ron sighed and watched wearily as Hermione affixed the plastic strips to his battered hand. It was nearly eleven already, and he was due back at the Ministry in just eight hours. At least Harry would be out of the office testifying at a trial all day. He wouldn't have to deal with the sight of the traitorous git until Monday.

Ron closed his eyes, seconds away from nodding off at the table, when another thought occurred to him.

"Hermione?"

"Um-hm."

"How come you never told me about this before?"

It was a question he'd meant to ask earlier in the evening before the rage had overtaken him and he'd lit out after Harry.

Hermione looked up and shrugged. "Honestly, I'd forgotten about it. So much happened that year."

Smiling at his knackered appearance, she reached forward and gently brushed the fringe from Ron's half-closed eyes. "You came back, thank God," she said quietly, prompting a smile from both of them. "Then there was Luna's, the Snatchers.. Malfoys'."

At the mention of Malfoys' Ron reached forward to cover her free hand with his, Hermione smiling appreciatively at the supportive gesture.

"Then Shell Cottage and Gringotts," she continued. "The castle, the war. Then us." Again, they both smiled. "Honestly, until you asked me tonight if Harry ever tried anything when we were younger, I'd forgotten about it."

"I wish _I_ could forget about it."

"You will," she assured, nodding. "You just need a bit of time."

Ron snorted skeptically. "One question. Would you be this forgiving if it was me _even thinking_ about kissing another girl?"

"Of course not."

"I'd be murdered in my sleep!"

"You would be, and don't doubt it."

They chuckled together, and Ron planted a kiss on the side of her head as she smiled happily and ran a soft hand down the side of his face. She looked up at him, the seriousness of her expression denoting she had something important to say.

"Ron, it was _one _moment in eleven years of Harry and me knowing each other. You and I have had moments six times a day since we were 14."

Ron smiled broadly, warmed by her words. "I suppose," he said happily, enjoying her characterization of _his_ moments with her versus Harry's.

Hermione surveyed her handiwork, his now-bandaged right hand.

"That'll do, I think."

Careful of his hand, Ron reached forward and gently pulled her from her chair and into his lap. She settled comfortably against him, reclining back against his chest and nestling her face in the nape of his neck as he encircled her with his arms.

Ron rested his head against hers, his hand moving up to lightly stroke her back as she sighed contentedly against him. It was a position they'd assumed many times before, the simple comfort of it never losing its appeal. The two of them sat in easy silence, feeling sleep coming on.

Hermione gave a massive yawn Ron couldn't help but smile at.

"Are we too knackered for a bath?" she asked wearily, as she surveyed their grime-coated bare feet. Apparating without shoes had its consequences.

Ron nuzzled her hair. "It would be a bit anticlimactic, that," he said, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

"What?"

Ron turned his head from the glorious mass of hair so she could hear him better.

"The heroes of the Second Wizarding War," he said with mock reverence, "two-thirds of the Golden Trio," he continued, "have nodded off and drowned in their bathtub."

A fit of giggles seized both of them despite their weariness.

"You're mental," Hermione said, reaching up to kiss the side of his head.

"Back at you, love."

She slid from his lap and reached for Ron's good hand, pulling him out of the chair and in the general direction of the bathroom.

"Come wash my back," she said, arching her eyebrows in a suggestive fashion that never failed to turn him on. Suddenly he wasn't so knackered anymore.

"I'll even wash your front."

Hermione threw a look back over her shoulder at his words, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Always thinking of others, Ronald."

"That's me."


	4. At The Ministry

Chapter 4: At The Ministry

"Harry, hold up!"

In as non-threatening a tone as he could manage, Ron called out loudly across the cavernous expanse of the Ministry's crowded atrium. Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly, taking a long appraising look at his friend.

"Should I run?" he asked drily.

Ron grinned despite himself, looking a bit sheepish. "Of course not," he said evenly, approaching Harry with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, hoping to communicate he just wanted to talk.

Three days had passed since the "unfortunate incident at the pub," as Hermione had taken to calling it, alternately known as the "bloody brilliant brawl" to George (and privately to Ron). Remorse had crept up on Ron by degrees, thanks in no small part to the considerable efforts of his wife. Decking his best friend over a moment that "didn't amount to _anything_" (Hermione) had seemed less and less reasonable a reaction as the weekend had worn on.

Ron stopped a few feet short of Harry, and the two surveyed each other warily for a long moment. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Ron spoke.

"Er, how are you feeling?" he asked in what he hoped was a sincere tone.

"Tip top."

Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The prat clearly wasn't going to make this easy. Disappointed somehow by the improved appearance of Harry's eye, Ron experienced a sudden impulse to blacken it again.

Still, it wouldn't do to start beating on the bloke at work. Hermione might have tolerated one punch thrown in a heated moment, but she'd hardly approve of a second beat-down delivered in front of their Ministry colleagues. And Ginny might get stroppy and come after him for marking up her blessed fiance. Not to mention what his boss would certainly do if he went about randomly slugging other aurors.

Ron sighed. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe it was best to put this behind them.

"Listen-" Ron began, stopping suddenly when he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say.

"Yeah?" Harry said, looking skeptical already.

Suddenly Ron recalled what he'd said to Hermione Thursday night.

"I might have... er, overreacted," he said in a rush, going pink in the face immediately.

"You think?" Harry said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Relaxing a little at the change in Harry's tone, Ron gave a long sigh. "What do you expect, mate? She's my life."

Harry openly grinned at Ron as he blushed hard and studied his shoes. Sensing he was determined to keep things civil, Harry took a few steps closer to his friend.

"Listen, Ron. Nothing happened."

"I know. Hermione told me."

"I never would have.. you know.. done anything. Honestly."

Ron snorted in reply, his skepticism obvious.

"I'd really like to explain," Harry said, looking sincere.

"Harry, I don't think I want to hear about it."

"I think it would help, Ron."

Ron sighed heavily. Hermione was the one who usually wanted to talk every bloody thing through, not Harry. Still.. he _had _slugged his best friend, and with no fair warning to boot. At the very least, he owed him a hearing.

"Okay," Ron said quietly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets again in hopes of keeping them there should Harry set him off.

Harry took another step closer to his friend as the crowds of Ministry workers streamed past them in the morning rush to get to their offices. This was hardly the best place to be having a private conversation, but at least they were talking.

"She was in pieces after you left, mate," Harry began quietly.

A familiar flicker of guilt passed across Ron's face.

"I'd never seen her that way before, and it scared me. All she did was cry, and wear your jumper, and listen to that damned radio of yours."

Ron was staring at his shoes again, a collection of regrets written all over his face. Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to continue.

"I just wanted to make her feel better."

Ron's head snapped up.

"Not.. not like that," Harry added quickly, holding his hands up innocently as Ron made a menacing move in his direction.

"Not what I meant," Harry said again, trying to smile. Ron stopped moving but continued to glare at him.

"I was just trying to cheer her up a bit. That's all," Harry said, hurrying to get to the point. "There was a song on the radio, and I was trying to get her to dance. Not.. Not close dancing," he said, gauging Ron's reaction.

"Just friend dancing, goofy dancing actually. And then-" Harry paused and shook his head as though trying to banish the memory.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he said finally, hanging his head.

Ron was in his face suddenly.

"Something you can _never_ think again," he said with an intensity that made Harry take a half step back from him.

"I won't.. I don't.. I don't think about her that way, you know that," Harry said with as much conviction as he could muster.

"That's _your_ job," he added, trying for levity. "You're good at it."

Ron smiled a little, removing his hands from his pockets.

"I love your sister, Ron. You know that."

Ron wasn't looking at him, but he nodded slightly. Harry could feel his friend warming up to him bit by bit.

"And for reasons known only to her," Harry continued, grinning now, "Hermione has never wanted anybody but you."

Ron grinned full on and raised his head. "It's a mystery," he said, smiling.

Harry smiled, too, enjoying his friend's ease at poking fun at himself. Ron's confidence in Hermione's feelings for him had been a long time in coming. But he was miles beyond the skinny, unsure kid he'd once been back at Hogwarts. Ron was a war hero, an auror, and had "somehow got the girl" (as he put it), all of which had done loads for his confidence.

Harry studied him. "So, we're okay?" he asked hopefully.

Ron paused. "So long as it _never _happens again."

"It won't, Ron. Believe me."

"Any suggestions as to how?" Ron attempted to keep his tone light, but Harry sensed his question was a serious one.

Telling him the truth seemed the best option.

"I want what you have, okay?" Harry said quietly. "What your parents have. And Hermione's. What my parents would have if-" Harry paused, dropping his head.

Ron couldn't help but reach out and give his friend a supportive pat, prompting Harry to continue.

"One guy, one girl," Harry said. "And a family. That's what I want, Ron."

Ron studied his friend for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Okay," he said.

"So, we're good then?"

"So long as you understand the ground rules."

"I believe you've made those clear. Several times."

They both chuckled.

"Listen," Ron said after a moment, "about Ginny-"

"Already handled."

"What do you mean 'handled'?" Ron asked, his good humor fading.

Harry hurried to explain. "She turned up at the pub two minutes after you left. Demanded to know why you were after me and what was up with my face." Harry rubbed his left cheek absently. "I told her during the year we were on the run, for about two seconds, I thought about trying to kiss Hermione. She seemed to think your reaction was reasonable."

Ron laughed out loud. "She would, yeah," he said, grinning.

Harry nodded, smiling.

"So you two are okay?"

"Yeah. Turns out she nearly kissed Neville that year we were gone."

Ron nearly swallowed his tongue in his astonishment. "What, Neville?!" Harry nodded, chuckling.

"Never would have thought the bugger had it in him!" Ron exclaimed, amused by this latest development.

Harry nodded. "Ginny was worrying over us. Neville was fretting over Luna getting snatched. Both of them were lonely, scared." He blew out a long breath. "We decided to chalk it all up to the worst year of our lives and let it go."

"Seems reasonable," Ron said quietly, nodding to himself.

The two stood in a companionable silence each in their own thoughts until Harry jerked his thumb in the direction of the lifts.

"Shall we?"

"Yeah, reckon so. Before the boss sends a posse out after us."

They both turned and moved briskly towards the lifts, eliciting occasional stares from fellow Ministry workers as they walked together across the crowded atrium. Their celebrity status was here to stay, it seemed.

"So, where's Hermione?" Harry asked.

"In her office since _six _already."

"Really needs to develop a work ethic, that one."

"I try to tell her."

They both chuckled.

"She let you sleep?"

"Well, she knows I like my pillow."

Harry nodded, smiling. They neared the end of the hall, moving rapidly together through the crowd of hurrying workers.

"You've got a hell of a right hook, by the way," Harry said pleasantly, sounding impressed.

"Really?" Ron couldn't help but grin.

"No, Ron. I was on my arse for fun."

They reached the queue for the lifts smiling and quickly maneuvered to the end of the shortest line.

"I think Hermione was a bit impressed actually," Ron confided.

Harry rolled his eyes. "She didn't even _see_ you hit me, Ron."

"She saw the end result, didn't she?! And you'll never guess what she did last night." Ron was grinning from ear to ear.

Harry gave a loud groan. "Merlin, STOP. Didn't we agree never to talk about that stuff?" He'd had the unfortunate experience of _walking in on them_ a few months prior and had yet to purge _that_ image from his mind, much less have to deal with new ones.

"Get your mind out the gutter, Harry! I wasn't talking about THAT. I'm talking about-"

"Just stop talking, Ron. You two are soppy enough as it is."

"Harry-"

"Ron. Stop talking."

Ron gave his friend an amiable shove, and they walked together into the lift.


	5. Engagement Do

Chapter 5: Engagement Do

The late May evening was cool but clear, a "right good night for a party" Arthur had declared it earlier in the evening when finishing up the degnoming. Dusk was falling as two dozen guests milled around the Burrow's lantern-lit front garden, others making their way to the small white tent bearing food at the edge of the lawn. Harry and Ginny wove their way through the crowd, greeting Harry's Ministry friends, Ginny's Quidditch mates, and a dozen Gryffindors from their years.

Dressed to the nines and grinning wildly, George crept up behind the pair, grabbing each by an arm and pulling them away from their surprised guests in mid conversation.

"Bloody hell, George!" Ginny protested loudly, glancing back apologetically at her abandoned Harpies teammates.

"Do you mind, mate?" Harry exclaimed, jerking his arm free from George's grasp as the three of them arrived at a spot a few yards away from the crowd.

"Just wanted to have a _private word_ with you two," George said with mock seriousness, arching his eyebrows and attempting to look menacing.

Ginny eyed her older brother up with suspicion. "Where's Angelina anyway?" she asked, glancing around for the older girl.

"Not back from practice yet courtesy of that twat new coach of hers. She'll turn up soon, I expect.. But for now, I'm _unsupervised_."

George grinned maliciously and moved a step closer to Harry.

"So, where's the shiner, mate?" he asked, taking Harry's face in hand and whipping it back and forth playfully as he inspected him. "I heard _all about_ your little pub brawl. Can't help but be a bit proud of my baby brother."

"Gin took care of it," Harry muttered, jerking his face from George's hand.

"Wouldn't do to have to explain your indiscretion at your engagement party, eh?" George teased.

"It wasn't an indiscretion, blimey!" Harry said, glancing around to make sure none of the guests standing nearby had overheard.

"Sod off, George," Ginny grumbled, attempting to swat her older brother as he pretended to cower in fear behind Harry.

A sudden pop rang out, and Hermione and Ron appeared ten feet away in the garden, each looking flushed and a bit disheveled. Hermione turned immediately to Ron, patting down his wild-looking hair and smoothing his clothing as he did the same for her.

"I told you _not_ to apparate us yet!" she whispered to him under her breath as Ron stood close to her grinning.

Grateful for the distraction, Ginny strolled briskly across the lawn towards them, followed close at the heels by Harry.

"Why is it you two can never manage to be on time these days?" she huffed.

"We're newlyweds," Ron said, his grin nearly splitting his face. "Do I really need to draw you a picture?"

Hermione swatted him reproachfully across the chest, turning pink in the face, but smiling.

"Please _don't_ draw us a picture," George groaned as he joined them.

"Under any circumstances," snickered Ginny.

"I've seen that picture," Harry muttered under his breath, enjoying the hot blush his words elicited in both his friends.

Recovering herself, Hermione slipped her hand into Ron's and pulled him forcibly across the garden in the general direction of the tent.

"Come along, Ronald," she said. "The buffet table's this way."

Ron trailed after her happily, glancing back over his shoulder to flash Ginny, George, and Harry a triumphant grin. Watching them go, George shook his head and chuckled.

"You know I may have liked it better when they fought all the time."

Ginny nodded. "Positively soppy," she said, smirking as she watched them.

"It's a problem," Harry said, grinning after the pair as they wove their way through the crowd towards the food.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"Was it absolutely necessary for you to tell Ron about it?"

The crowd of partygoers had thinned considerably, and Harry and Hermione were standing alone a few feet from the tent as five Weasley siblings posed for a rare group photo at the insistence of their mother.

"Was it _absolutely necessary_ for me to be honest with my husband?!" Hermione said with a degree of incredulity. "Is _that_ what you're asking me, Harry?!"

She sounded dangerously close to slugging him herself, prompting an immediate stab of remorse in Harry.

"Okay, point taken," he said, hanging his head.

"Thank you," Hermione huffed, brightening somewhat as she watched Ron playfully shove and elbow his brothers.

Harry studied his shoes for a moment, looking sulky.

"It's just that everybody knows, and everybody's taking the piss," he said finally.

"Shouldn't they?" she retorted.

"I suppose."

Glancing sideways at him, Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Honestly, Harry, you only defeated the worst dark wizard in history. I'd think it would toughen you up a bit."

"_We_ defeated him," Harry corrected, raising his head.

Hermione turned to look at him and the two of them managed a smile before turning back to continue closely watching the Weasleys. Family occasions could get emotional quickly, Fred's absence still felt by all.

As they looked on, George tried to pull a reluctant Angelina into the family photo. The tall, athletic girl promptly tackled him and pinned him down as George cried out mournfully in mock pain.

"She's a bloody _Amazon_, that one!" Harry exclaimed, sounding awed, as Hermione nodded, grinning.

"So, anyway," he said, turning away from the hijinks on the lawn. "About, uh, you know, what we were talking about. Why did it even come up? Just out of the blue like that?"

"Ron asked me if you ever tried anything when we were younger," Hermione said flatly, smiling as she watched Ron grapple with Bill on the lawn. "I certainly wasn't going to lie to him."

"I wasn't _trying anything_, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione turned to him, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

"Oh, no?"

"I wouldn't have, okay," he protested, "probably."

"Probably?!"

"I was just.. I dunno.. lonely, alright?" Harry stammered, his face turning red. "That was a miserable fall. Especially after Ron left."

"No argument there," Hermione said, a shadow falling across her face.

The Weasleys were now scattering across the lawn, Ginny walking purposefully towards her fiancé and sister-in-law while Ron attempted to escape a headlock Bill had got him in.

"I'm not INTERRUPTING anything, am I?!" Ginny called out loudly as she approached them, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, going red in the face in an instant. Ginny laughed out loud at her friend's reaction.

"Relax, okay?" she said grinning. "I know you're not after Harry." Ginny moved quickly to Harry's side, slipping her arm in his. "Besides... I nearly had a close encounter with Neville the year you two had your _moment_."

"It wasn't a _moment_," Harry grumbled, his irritation clear.

"What? Neville?!" Hermione exclaimed, her mouth hanging open.

"Yep!" Ginny confirmed, grinning. She shook her head. "It was a strange year."

"No argument there," Harry and Hermione said in unison, catching each other's eye and smiling.

Spotting Ron strolling across the lawn towards them, Harry grinned broadly as he watched his friend.

"Here comes Muhammad Ali," he said wryly.

"A _very ginger_ Muhammed Ali," Hermione said happily, enjoying the view.

"Who knew?" Harry said, as the two of them erupted in laughter.

"Who in the blazes is Muhammed Ali?" Ginny asked, looking mystified.

"Tell you later," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

"Hey," Ron said to Hermione as he reached the three of them, moving in to kiss her softly on the mouth then slipping an arm around her waist and turning back to face the garden.

"Did you see me pin Bill?" Ron asked with a hint of pride, catching Harry's eye.

"We saw Bill get you in a headlock," Hermione said, suppressing a smile, as Harry and Ginny promptly began laughing.

"For _two seconds_ he had me in a headlock, Hermione!" Ron protested, reaching in to tickle her mercilessly in retaliation as she wriggled and shrieked and demanded loudly that he cut it out. After a few seconds Ron relented, pulling her close to his side as she straightened out her clothing.

"Is that what you three prats were laughing about when I walked up?" Ron asked as he watched George and Lee Jordan wrestle on the lawn. "Me and Bill?"

"No, just you, mate," Harry said.

"What?"

"We were wondering how you manage to carry this tremendous thing around, Sluggo," Harry said, pointing to Ron's bicep.

Ron shoved his friend good-naturedly with his free arm, looking vaguely pleased.

"Just try not to make me a widow before I'm even married yet, okay, Ron?" said Ginny. "It'd be a bit inconvenient."

"Thanks for that, Gin," Harry said sarcastically under his breath, eliciting a playful swat from Ginny.

"Just TRY to keep your prat fiancé off my wife, okay, Gin?!" Ron said loudly. "It'd be a bit inconvenient."

All four of them erupted in groans and laughter.

"That's gross," Hermione said, looking ill.

"So gross," added Ginny.

"Ugh," said Harry, rolling his eyes and looking vaguely nauseated.

"I'll keep Harry on me, Ron," Ginny said.

"Good," Ron replied, distracted by George and Lee's increasingly comical wrestling moves. "Wait.. WHAT did you just say?" he asked, looking horrified as he whipped his head back around.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look then began mock groping each other, laughing uproariously as Ron covered his eyes and groaned loudly.

"Try not to think about it, Ron," Hermione said, giggling, as she slipped a supportive arm around his waist.

"BUGGER," Ron said, trying not to think about it as the two prats continued their show.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"What's this?!" Dean asked with amusement as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the spectacle on the lawn.

"They do this every time we eat outdoors," Ginny said rolling her eyes.

"It's best to ignore it," Harry added, exchanging an amused look with George.

His arms wrapped around her from behind, Ron was spinning Hermione madly in the middle of the garden, her legs flying out perpendicular to her body as she shrieked loudly and Ron laughed uncontrollably.

Dean grinned in their direction, shaking his head, while Seamus gave an amused snort.

"Well, we're off, mates," Dean said, turning his attention from the garden. "Great party, by the way. This one's half pissed already." He hooked a thumb towards Seamus who nodded blearily.

Dean removed his wand from his jacket pocket and took Seamus' arm.

"Come along then, love... I'll tuck you in."

"You wish, lover," Seamus quipped, just before they apparated.

"Lovely couple, that," George grinned, as he, Harry, and Ginny chuckled and turned back in the direction of the shrieking figures on the lawn.

Standing in the doorway of the Burrow, Molly called out loudly to her youngest son.

"Ron, stop that! ... You'll make her tinkle."

In the doorway next to Molly, Angelina and Fleur doubled over with laughter, and Hermione and Ron suddenly collapsed in a heap on the lawn.

"Too late," Hermione said, as she rose grinning to her feet and began to wobble unsteadily across the lawn towards the house.

"Get back here, woman!" Ron shouted, staggering to an upright position and lighting out after Hermione.

Catching up to her, he locked his arms around her middle and began spinning her again, as Hermione shrieked "Ron, _stop_! I have to go to the loo!" again and again. Ron teetered over and collapsed onto the grass finally, taking Hermione with him.

"Oh, honestly," Molly said, handing her dish towel to Fleur, then crossing the lawn towards her son and daughter-in-law.

"Are you two about done?" she said looking down at them with amusement as they lay close together face up on the grass. "I believe I've already asked you once, Ron, to help me with the tidying up."

"Why is Mum _spinning_?" Ron asked with an affected confusion that made Hermione immediately erupt in a fit of giggles.

"I can't imagine," she said.

Molly caught Arthur's eye across the lawn and rolled her eyes. "That's very amusing, you two," she said, smiling. "Now come inside, please, and help me with the dishes. Harry and Ginny helped out before the party."

"Ever heard of, um, ... _MAGIC _... Mum?!" Ron said loudly, prompting Hermione to dissolve in a fresh wave of giggles. The Butterbeer he'd talked her into downing ten minutes earlier was having a predictable effect.

"ENOUGH, you two!" Molly said sharply, her good humor fading, her patience at an end. "I'm still your mother, Ron, and this is still my house!"

In the doorway, Fleur and Angelina, joined by Percy and Bill, broke into enthusiastic applause and loud "woohoo's!"

"Here here, Mum!" George called out as he, Harry, and Ginny stood on the lawn a few yards away blatantly eavesdropping on the conversation.

Hermione colored at her mother-in-law's words and scrambled up to her feet, disentangling herself from Ron, who had sat up halfway and was attempting to pull her back down to him.

"Your Mum's right, Ron," Hermione said, grabbing both his hands and pulling him to his feet as he gave a reluctant groan.

"Thank you, dear," Molly said, giving Hermione an affectionate pat. The older woman turned and began walking quickly back in the direction of the house, her voice trailing behind her.

"Just help me with the dishes, dears. Then you can have your cuddle in the garden."

The rest of the family erupted in laughter, Ron flashing them a collective middle finger in response. Hermione turned bright pink and gave a bit of a giggle as the two wobbled hand in hand towards the door.


	6. At The Flat

Chapter 6: At the Flat

Ron came in loudly as was his way, kicking the door shut haphazardly behind him as he dropped the Muggle post onto the small table in the entryway bearing their wedding photos. Then he shrugged off his bag, letting it land with a thud on the creaky wood floor of the tiny space that passed for the foyer.

Hermione lay atop the bed, pretending to sleep, as Ron moved methodically across the room, shedding his auror robes and shoes along the way in a daily ritual she'd come to know by heart. She smiled when she felt his weight hit the bed and he scrambled up the length of her body, coming to rest nearly fully on top of her, his face just inches from her own.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, enjoying the view, as he grinned at her in that patently _Ron _way that still made her heart beat double-time.

"And you are?" she asked, a quizzical look on her face.

Ron rolled his eyes, and his smile broadened. He moved one hand up to cradle her face, the other to cup her breast.

"If you don't know by now, we've got a problem."

"We've got a problem, alright," Hermione said, grinning at him and moving her arms up to encircle his body.

"Hi," he said quietly, dropping a soft kiss on her mouth.

"Hey," she replied contentedly.

"Did you sleep?"

"Too much."

"No such thing, Hermione," Ron said pointedly. "How's the case coming?"

Hermione groaned loudly in response.

"That bad, eh?"

"Don't ask," she said, sighing.

It felt like _months_ she'd been at it, puzzling over a particularly vexing case Kingsley had assigned her, the very first case she'd be handling on her own. Poring over legal texts at the Ministry for days, she'd been unable to reconcile the conflicting information found within the law library's different volumes. She'd toted those same books home every night, piling up so many of them that by weekends they'd occupy every inch of space atop the small kitchen table.

"Kingsley's going to sack me," she'd fretted aloud to Ron after two weeks of frustration.

"Kingsley is _not _going to sack you, Hermione," he'd assured her. "He'd be crazy to."

"It's two weeks now, and I don't have it figured."

"If you can't figure it, then it can't be figured."

"A lot you know about it."

"I know that much."

After "seventeen days!" of getting precisely nowhere, Hermione had become so distressed by her lack of progress, she was barely sleeping. Noting her chronic exhaustion, Ron had finally put his foot down, insisting she spend that June Friday tucked away at home in bed.

"Nobody can go this long without proper sleep!" he'd argued, ignoring her loud assertions that she was "perfectly capable" of going to work that day and threatening to hex her if she stepped a foot out the door.

Their row had culminated in an unexpected outburst from Ron that had had Hermione smiling all day.

"I am your husband, and I'm putting my foot down!' Ron had bellowed suddenly after ten minutes of debating had gotten him no closer to his goal.

They'd both stopped in mid-row then, staring at each other, a light blush creeping to their faces.

Then, as if on cue, they'd erupted in laughter.

"Was that too much?" he'd asked her, looking shy suddenly.

"A bit... But I liked it."

"Me, too," he'd said, grinning. "So does that mean you're staying home?" His tone was so hopeful.

She'd huffed and rolled her eyes.

"It's one day, Hermione. You need it.. Please."

Touched by his concern, she'd relented at last.

"Okay," she'd said, enjoying the way his face lit up in reaction. "I mean if my _husband _wants me to."

He'd blushed crimson at that, and she'd loved it.

And he'd been right, too, Ron, her _husband_, about just how much she needed a day off. After seeing him off to the Ministry, she'd slept the morning away, rising around 1pm to attempt to get back to work at the kitchen table.

"I know what'll fix you up," Ron said now as they lay comfortably together on the bed in early evening. Backing off of her, he took her hands in his and attempted to pull her up and off of the bed with him.

Hermione groaned in protest as his weight left her body, clutching tightly to his hands and attempting to force him back down to her.

"Can't you fix me up right here?"

Ron let his eyes drift slowly down her body.

"Later," he said, his blue eyes boring into hers as her stomach did a backflip and he pulled her reluctantly from the bed. "First, we eat."

Once they were vertical again, Ron wrapped his arms around her from behind and walked her over to the bag he'd discarded just inside the front door.

"I actually remembered to fetch the groceries today, if you can believe it," he said, releasing her and stooping to retrieve his leather satchel.

"You're on your game today, sir."

"I do have my moments."

Placing his satchel on the kitchen counter, Ron unzipped it and retrieved from its depths a flimsy plastic shopping bag the two of them pulled open. Removing bread, a block of cheese, and a pack of biscuits from the bag, he turned to fetch milk, eggs, butter, and a single large tomato from the narrow refrigerator.

Hermione snatched the pack of biscuits from the counter and chucked it backhanded across the room, smiling as it landed with a soft thud in the middle of the bed.

"No biscuits for you until after supper, young man."

"Yes, Mum."

Standing close to Ron at the kitchen counter, Hermione felt around inside the shopping bag for any remaining items. Pulling out a thick stack of familiar colorful cards, she smiled broadly and rolled her eyes.

"You know, Ron, they'll GIVE you our Chocolate Frog cards, the people who make them," she said, grinning at him. "You don't have buy up scores of these in hopes of stumbling upon our three."

Ron shrugged. "It's more fun to get them the regular way."

"Even if it means spending our life savings?"

"If need be," he said grinning.

Hermione shook her head. "Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath so quietly she was confident he hadn't heard her. She'd decided a swear didn't count if nobody could hear it. It was taxing enough trying never to swear with the constant influence of the always-colorful Weasleys.

"What was that you said?" Ron asked looking delighted, clearly onto her.

"Not a thing."

"Right."

Deciding to let it go apparently, he grabbed a pan from a cabinet above the stove and began coating its cooking surface with the end of a stick of butter.

"How about a couple of those cheese omelets your Dad taught us?"

"YES," Hermione said, nodding happily and managing not to comment on the rather uneven job he'd done with the buttering. She was getting better at that all the time, she noted inwardly with a smile, "giving that lovely boy a break," as her Mum put it.

Ron cracked the eggs directly into the pan instead of mixing them up separately in a bowl. Looking on with a grimace, Hermione sighed and bit her lip but didn't say a word.

Eager for a distraction, she reached for the block of cheese and steered the conversation in a new direction.

"You know, I'm never going to sleep tonight after sleeping all day," she said glumly, chewing on a bit of cheddar cheese she'd pinched off the side of the block.

Leaning down to drop a soft kiss on her forehead, Ron noted her still peaky appearance. "Sure you will," he said pointedly. "You're exhausted, Hermione."

Turning back to the stove, Ron poured a little milk into the pan, then deftly mixed the soupy mess into a frothy foam. Hermione couldn't help but be impressed.

"We've got the whole weekend to get you sorted," he added.

"If you say so."

"I do."

Five minutes later, Hermione was seated at the small kitchen table, halfway through the nearly perfect cheese omelet Ron had prepared.

"Good?" he asked, grinning over his shoulder at her before setting to work on an omelet of his own.

"Heaven," she replied, smiling at him gratefully, then dispensing with what remained of the omelet in two giant bites.

"I think my table manners are rubbing off on you," Ron observed, looking amused.

"_Perish_ the thought," she said thickly through her mouthful of eggs.

"Now I _know_ I'm rubbing off on you!" Ron declared triumphantly, her attempt at speech with a mouth full of omelet providing the proof.

"Next it'll be _your_ robes all over the floor," he added, grinning.

Hermione attempted to look disapproving despite her smile. "Not in this lifetime," she said, still chewing.

She couldn't lay off him _completely_ after all; It just wasn't them. She kept him sorted.

Hermione eyed Ron's auror robes where he'd dropped them unceremoniously to the floor a foot from the chair where she neatly deposited her dress clothes after work each day. She jerked her thumb in the direction of his discarded clothing and cut her eyes at him.

"Do you _never_ manage to hit the chair, Ronald?"

"Not so far."

Hermione laughed out loud, feeling warmed by Ron's toothy grin and chuckle in response.

They were still in mid-chuckle when a brilliant white light taking the form of a stag broke forth suddenly near the foot of the bed, startling them both. A few seconds later, Harry's voice began echoing through the room:

"Sorry to muck up your weekend, mate, but it's about that baddie we tracked up to Manchester. We've got a sighting on him and a possible location. Shouldn't take too long to grab him, just a day or two if our intelligence is good. We'll be back in time for Sunday dinner at your Mum's. Give my apologies to Hermione, and meet me quick as you can at the Ministry. Thanks, mate."

Harry's bright stag faded, and a heavy silence filled the room. Hermione stared numbly after Harry's patronus, then cast a mournful look in Ron's direction.

"He's the Death Eater, right?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The one in Manchester?"

Ron nodded.

Hermione swallowed hard and bit her lip, turning her head away and blinking rapidly.

Ron moved to her and gently pulled her from the chair and into his arms. She wrapped herself around him as he held her snug against his chest, his face nestled against her hair, her face tucked into the hollow of his neck.

"Sorry to run out on you," he whispered, regret heavy in his voice.

"I know you are."

After standing together for nearly a minute, Hermione pulled away from him slowly, fishing his robes from the floor, then sliding her hand into an interior pocket and pulling out a flip-style mobile phone.

She groaned. "Ron, you've left it open again!"

Ron looked at her quizzically.

"The battery's run down," she said grimly, trying to ignore an irrational ripple of panic rising within her. Moving to her small desk, she set the phone down and began going quickly through the drawers. "Where did we put the spare battery?"

"The what?"

Hermione sighed. The nuances of Muggle technology were still utterly lost on Ron, despite the fact that he'd been carrying the phone around for half a year. He still jumped a foot in the air every time the "sodding little thing" sounded off.

"Found it!" Hermione announced with relief, fishing the battery from a bottom drawer then turning back from the desk to face Ron again. She switched out the battery, then flipped the phone over and began running through its menu.

"I'm setting the ringer on vibrate. In case it goes off when you and Harry are in a tight spot."

"What?"

"The phone will vibrate, not ring, when I call you."

"Okay."

Hermione moved to him. "Promise me, Ron," she said looking up into his face and feeling emotional suddenly. "Promise me you'll answer it when I call you. As long as it's safe for you to talk. And that you'll remember to keep the phone closed, to save on the battery."

"I will," he said quietly, running a soft hand down the side of her face, touched by her concern.

Hermione nodded, swiping vaguely at her eyes. Fetching the pack of biscuits from the bed, she slipped them into his robes' interior pocket along with the phone.

Ron tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie, wriggling his way back into his shoes with a heavy sigh, then reaching for his robes.

Hermione turned to retrieve an overnight bag from the closet they kept packed for such occasions, then moved to the kitchen. Grabbing the bread and cheese from the counter, she quickly added crisps, two apples, and a bottle of water to the collection of items in her arms.

She was just about to grab the Chocolate Frog cards, when Ron's hand was suddenly on top of hers.

"We'll open them together," he said, looking into her eyes. "Once I'm home."

"Okay," she said smiling up at him, warmed by his tacit promise.

Turning to his overnight bag, Hermione unzipped the main compartment and lovingly tucked the food inside.

"Don't forget to eat, okay?"

"When has that ever been a problem?"

Hermione smiled broadly at Ron's comment and turned back to face him, sighing as she caught sight of his necktie. She cut her eyes at him teasingly as her hands moved up to loosen and undo the lopsided knot.

"Why is it you never manage to tie this thing correctly?"

"Then there'd be no need for you to do it."

Hermione broke into a wide smile.

"You like that, huh?" Ron said, enjoying her reaction.

"I don't hate it."

They chuckled together, Ron grinning down at her as Hermione made swift work of his tie.

"Better?" he asked, as she smoothed the creases from his shirt.

"Very handsome," she replied, smiling up at him.

Ron blushed noticeably, still unable to quite believe any positive assessment of his looks.

"You're cracked," he stammered.

Hermione laughed out loud. "I am indeed," she said. "But it also happens to be true."

"If I could have one person think that, it'd be you."

"Well," she said softly, moving her face close to his, "mission accomplished then," she breathed against his lips just before she kissed him.

The kiss was slow and loving, her arms moving to encircle his body, his hands rising to tenderly cup her face as her mouth moved against his. When they broke apart finally, Ron wrapped her in a tight embrace, lowering his head to rest gently on top of hers.

"I love you more than anything," he whispered to her softly.

"That's how much I love you."

They stood in silence holding each other until Hermione forced herself finally to pull away. Reaching for Ron's overnight bag and satchel, she raised the straps over his head then lowered them diagonally across his body, flattening them lovingly with the palm of her hand against his broad chest.

"I'm proud of you," she said softly, looking up into his eyes.

After a last look and brave smiles from them both, he was gone, off to continue the fight they'd begun long ago. With a troll in a bathroom and a pint-sized defender with a messy head of red hair. The fight that had started them, saved their world, and made the sweetness of their union possible.

* * *

A/N - Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! They're appreciated. More chapters to come..


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